


Bitter Secret of My Heart I: And the Cat on the Rat, The

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-07-31
Updated: 1998-07-31
Packaged: 2018-11-20 12:32:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11335689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: This is an alternate version of an alternate scene in *Tunguska*.





	Bitter Secret of My Heart I: And the Cat on the Rat, The

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

The Bitter Secret Of My Heart by MariaJ

December 13, 1997  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Author's note: This is an alternate version of an alternate scene in "Tunguska". Eh? Well, when I wrote it I hadn't seen Tunguska/Terma yet. I have now (!!!!!) and I know that several... most of... ok, *all* of the details about the cell and what Mulder and Krycek are wearing are *completely* wrong. I can only hope that that doesn't detract from the enjoyment of this story too much. It's the first chapter in a longer series of twelve parts (at least that's my plan at the moment - we'll see what happens).  
It contains some rather tame sex (it's the first sex scene I've ever written), a few naughty words, a lot of mindfucking (courtesy of one Fox Mulder) and a little angst. And obviously, Mulder and Krycek belong to CC, 1013 and Fox and there's absolutely no point in suing me. With all the X-stuff I buy, I'm permanently broke anyway.   
MKRA - yes. Gossamer, Usenet - no.   
Thank you *very* kindly to Elizabeth, Jeannie, Maeg, Misha and Yvette because you helped me make this story even better, and because you asked for more (you'll get it, have no fear).  
Feedback welcomed at <>.

* * *

THE BITTER SECRET OF MY HEART   
Part one: "And the cat on the rat..."   
by MariaJ  
May 1997  
<>

He knew. Of course, he knew. He was a psychologist after all, and a damn good one. It was obvious to him that he kept on hitting Alex Krycek because what he *really* wanted to do, he couldn't do. No way could he give the Consortium that kind of hold over him, that kind of blackmail material. He'd invested far too much of his life into finding Samantha to let it be jeopardized by a few moments of pleasure. 

He was sitting on one of the beds in the cell, leaning back against the wall and he was shivering. This place was terribly cold. He drew up his legs, wrapped his arms around his knees, and stuck his hands into the sleeves of his sweater. Meanwhile, he was following Krycek with his eyes; Krycek who was pacing to and fro between the two beds in the room, from the tiny window to the bolted door, four steps, turn around, four steps, turn around, four steps, turn around, all the time muttering to himself. Mulder couldn't catch the words and most of it seemed to be in Russian anyway.

What did he really have to lose anymore? Not even his vivid imagination could come up with a scenario in which he got out of this alive. He hadn't told Scully where he was going, and Krycek would only try to save his own skin. He was probably going to die.

Krycek stopped by the window, and shook the steel bars again. What a stupid thing to do. As if they would miraculously bend to let them out of this dismal little hell-hole of a cell. Then the pacing started again, and although Mulder would willingly spend the rest of his life watching the fluid movements of his ex-partner this was quickly getting very irritating.

It wasn't *that* sort of movements he was interested in anyway.

"Will you sit down, Krycek?" he burst out eventually. "You're making me dizzy."

"Shut up! You got us into this, so just *shut up*!"

"*You* sent me those receipts."

"And how was I supposed to know you'd drag us all the way to *Russia*?"

"No one asked you to tag along. You could've stayed in the car at the airport. Sooner or later *someone* would have spotted you."

This was getting sillier by the minute. He shouldn't be taunting Krycek like that. No one could predict how he would react. Besides, Krycek was right. It *was* Mulder's search for the truth that'd brought them to this Siberian gulag where they would most likely be tortured and killed.

"Go to hell, Mulder."

Krycek had stopped his pacing right in front of Mulder and was now towering over him, fists on hips, a murderous look on his face. Suddenly Mulder remembered his first impression of Alex Krycek. It was so eerily different from what Krycek was today, that he found it hard to believe that this was actually the same man who'd been standing there in the middle of the bustling FBI office, shifting his weight from foot to foot, eyes dancing all over the place, glancing at anything and everybody except Mulder. Of course, he'd found out later why Krycek had been so jumpy and nervous that day. The lying little bastard.

"I should make you pay for all the times you've hit me, Mulder."

Obviously the problem was that Krycek wasn't 'little' in any meaning of the word anymore, if he'd ever been that. Mulder sometimes wondered if he'd *ever* get the chance to meet the *real* Alex Krycek, the man behind the thousand masks. Back then, in that ill-fitting suit of his, buttoned up to the very last button he'd looked like somebody's kid brother, determined to be allowed to play along with the older boys. Very young and very vulnerable.

"And how do you intend to make me pay, Krycek?"

He didn't look young and vulnerable now. Far from it. Those black jeans, that leather jacket, even the stupid-ass haircut, it all made him look dangerous. Which he was. Mulder understood perfectly well that while he'd found Krycek attractive in his federal agent guise, this badboy-attitude Krycek had adopted was absolutely lethal, heading straight for his genitals. The angrier Krycek got, the harder Mulder's cock responded.

"I'll think of something." Krycek had been leaning forward in an attempt to emphasize his threat and to intimidate him further, and Mulder couldn't resist the temptation anymore. He took hold of Krycek's face with both hands, dragged it down the last few inches, and kissed him. 

It wasn't much of a kiss; he barely grazed Krycek's lips with his own before his hands were knocked aside and Krycek shied away from him, almost stumbling over the other bed but managing to stay on his feet. He rubbed his mouth viciously on the sleeve of his jacket. Mulder put on his most sympathetic expression and said in a very sincere voice, "Oh, I'm *so* sorry. Didn't you want me to kiss you?"

"You're sick. What the hell made you think that?"

"Well, you *are* always flirting with me."

"I do *not*."

He resisted the urge to retort 'Do too' as if he was five years old and grinned. This was fun. Then he remembered that it was probably his last chance *ever* to have any fun, and the grin disappeared. 

<Stop being so defeatist, Mulder. You're *not* going to die.>

<Actually, I think it's time to fulfill my last wish.>

<Your last *what*? Have you gone mad? And what would that be?>

<I want Alex Krycek to scream my name when he comes...>

<You've *got* to be kidding... That sleazeball...>

<That *attractive* sleazeball, if you don't mind...>

<Mind? Me, mind? I *am* your mind. And why would you want to sleep with... with... *that*...>

Krycek was staring at him now, the look on his face shifting repeatedly between ugly disgust and incredulous surprise, as if Mulder had suddenly turned green and started to sprout long antennas.

<Because I want him.>

<But *why*?>

<I'm going to die. Maybe I want to have sex one more time before the torture starts, and he's the only person around.>

<Except for the guards...>

<Or maybe I want to do something to make him decide to stay as far away as possible from me in the future...>

<Eh... far be it for me to point out your mistakes... but how can you have a future if you're going to die?>

<Oh, be quiet...>

<When you give me a *sensible* reason.>

<How about: I want to punish him, to inflict pain... Is that bloodthirsty enough for you?>

<Mulder, you couldn't rape someone even if your life depended on it.>

<Perhaps I want him to beg... I like that... Alex Krycek begging...>

<As if he'd ever do that...>

<From the way he looks right now, I don't think he's done it before. If he's really straight, then maybe I can make him feel humiliated and used?>

<Don't get megalomaniac, Mulder. You don't really think there's *anything* that that creep hasn't tried before, do you?>

<He's not a creep.>

<Of course he is. And a traitor. And a murderer.>

<Okay, in that case, maybe I want to persuade him to give up his wicked ways, and defect to my side of things...>

There was actually a few seconds of stunned silence in the echoing chambers and winding tunnels that Mulder called his brain, and then the bickering voices started again.

<Oh, how *eloquent,* and how *roma-a-antic*...>

<There's no need to use *that* tone. You're the one who wants reasons. I'm quite happy with, 'I want him,' period.>

<In that case, don't you think you should *do* something, and not just sit there ogling him?>

<You're right...>

<I'm *always* right.>

<... it's time to raise the stakes.>

He gracefully stretched his legs and arms, then stood up and slowly approached Krycek who was backing away from him, until he slammed into the door with a bang and had to stop. "Don't come near me," he hissed.

"Stop worrying, Alex. I'm not going to hurt you. Not that you don't deserve it, but we'll save the b&d for later, don't you think?"

His voice was deep and persuasive, and Krycek was staring at him half-hypnotized, his pupils dilated with arousal and... what was that? ...fear? Mulder had expected any of a number of different reactions from Krycek, but not this. Disgust - yes. Anger and violence - yes. Desire -well, you can hope, can't you? But not fear. It was so completely out of character, that when Mulder had come so close he was almost touching Krycek, he halted his progress. And hesitated.

<Hey, moron, this is Alex Krycek you're having second thoughts about. *Alex* *Krycek*. The man who betrayed you, who murdered your father, who stole the DAT tape... Why the hell should he expect any kind of sympathy from you? Besides, it's probably just another trick.>

"What *did* you do all the time you spent in that silo, Alex? It must've been awfully cold in there. It's quite cold in here. I thought it'd be a pleasant way to keep warm."

"I'm not like that," Krycek squeaked.

"Like what?" Mulder said and rested his palms against the door on either side of Krycek's head.

"Queer. Gay. I'm not a homosexual."

"And?"

He leaned towards Krycek as if to kiss him again, but then he tilted his head to one side instead and licked Krycek's ear. Krycek was trembling, he could sense that, although no part of their bodies was actually in contact. And he could feel Krycek's body heat seeping through the two layers of clothes that were separating them. He nibbled at Krycek's earlobe and heard him gasp. 

"Mulder..."

"Ummm..." He was moving lower, nuzzling his way down Krycek's throat.

"Will you stop? Please... Mulder, *please*..."

He paused at that. Krycek really sounded desperate. For a second he wished he could do this whether Krycek agreed or not, but he wasn't a rapist. Never had been. Never would be. Not even with this man whom he hated and wanted equally. He reluctantly retreated a few steps. Small drops of sweat were trickling down Krycek's cheeks and there was a perceptible bulge at the front of his jeans. 

"Are you sure you want me to stop?"

Krycek was breathing heavily and Mulder could see how he was fighting to get his rebellious body under control. Fascinated, he observed Krycek's eyes changing from swirling fire into emerald steel.

"Don't touch me again."

Mulder shrugged and then he laid down on his back on the bed, hands under his head. Blood was drumming in his ears, his lips felt swollen and scratched and his body was tingling with excitement.

<Oh well. You can't always get lucky.>

He'd known since he was in his early teens that he was attracted to men as well as women. It hadn't bothered him, or rather it hadn't bothered him *more* than any of the other things that made his life so complicated. He'd also known that if his father had discovered his secret, it would not have stopped at a bruise or a black eye; he'd have ended up in the hospital or somewhere worse. So, self-preservation had taught him to be discreet. 

After he joined the Bureau, he realized that that wasn't enough, he had to be simply paranoid. The FBI was notoriously homophobic, and he had no wish to be sacked because of his sexual preferences. And lately, sex had been something else that had to be sacrificed on the altar of 'finding the truth'. More's the pity. Erotic videos had their merits, but they were nothing compared to the real thing.

Krycek had sat down cautiously on his own bed, eyeing Mulder as if he'd suddenly come to the conclusion that he'd been imprisoned in a cage with a man-eating lion. Mulder knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help it: he loved it when Krycek looked like that. It didn't happen very often. If he'd known Krycek would react like this, he would have tried to seduce the other man much earlier; because somehow he doubted that Krycek would have reported to his superiors - whoever they were - that Mulder had made a pass at him. But doubt doesn't equal certainty, and Mulder had never been willing to take the risk before.

Krycek's weird reaction made him wonder though if his erstwhile partner had even been aware of the 'come-hither-and-ride-me-hard'-signals he had been sending out since the very first time they met. Probably not, to judge from his response now with eyes that said 'no, no, no' and a body that screamed 'yes, yes, yes'.

<And I thought *I* was a mess...>

Mulder studied the cracks making patterns in the ceiling and rubbed his nose. He would have enjoyed fucking Krycek. He could imagine it all too easily. Krycek's lithe body under his writhing in passion, his pleas as he begged Mulder to take him harder, faster, deeper, shouting Mulder's name when he came, spurting semen into bedclothes twisted and tangled from their intercourse. He wearily closed his eyes and sighed. Twisted and tangled - that summed up his feelings for Krycek far too well. 

<I wish I could just hate him, plain and simple. My life would be so much easier if I could just *hate* him...>

"What're you doing?"

He jumped as Krycek's voice broke his reverie and he realized that he'd started to touch himself, fingers dancing deftly over his chest and stomach. Krycek sounded strangely upset. Perhaps then, this was a different method to seduce him. Because seduced he had to be. Mulder could curse his conscience all he liked, and he *was* cursing it rather fervently at the moment, but he knew he couldn't use force. It didn't matter whether Krycek was in fact pretending or not, he just couldn't. He couldn't. Of course, that didn't mean he wouldn't use every trick he knew to persuade Krycek to have sex with him of his own free will. And he *did* know a trick or two.

"If *you* don't want to play with me," he said lazily, plucking at a nipple through his sweater, "I can always play with myself. Just because you've decided to freeze to death, doesn't mean I have to. "

"You're sick."

"That's the second time you've said that."

Krycek's eyes were following every move his fingers were making and Mulder made a deliberate show of stroking himself all over. He was still fully dressed, and he didn't want to think about what this slow torture would feel like on naked skin.

"Don't tell me, Alex, that when you were trapped in that *cold* and *dark* silo you never did this, just to stay warm. I don't believe you."

He knew it was cruel to talk about the silo. And unfair. Regardless of what Krycek had done, he hadn't deserved being locked away in that thing. And this cell must remind Krycek painfully of that time. Evil. Really evil. Mulder smiled and trailed his hand lower.

"You mention the... the... again and I'll..."

"And you'll what? Come over here?" he purred.

"Never. It's not decent."

"What? Did your mother lecture you on the dangers of masturbation? What did she tell you? That you'd go blind? Trust me, you won't."

"You'd know. Your right hand's the only lover you've had in the last decade, isn't it, Mulder?"

"Ummm... That's below the belt. No pun intended. How long has it been since *you've* had a lover, Alex?"

"None of your damned business."

"That long, eh? I guess being on the run doesn't further your love life that much, does it?"

He'd reached his groin now and was prudently avoiding the more sensitive areas. Partly because he was already uncomfortable enough as it was (his jeans weren't really cut out to accommodate his erection); partly because he suspected that it annoyed and aroused Krycek.

"Will you *get on* with it?"

He pouted. He was good at that. His pout had gotten him far in life. 

"No, I intend to make it last as long as I can. This time tomorrow, we may very well be dead; this might be the last sex, such as it is, that I'll ever have." He was peering at Krycek through his eyelashes; gazing intently as Krycek squirmed, shifting slightly from side to side, and he smiled again. 

<Evil. Really evil.>

"If it bothers you *that* much, why don't you turn over and inspect the wall. You don't have to watch... unless you want to?"

"What do *you* want, Mulder? You want to suck me off?"

"It's a start."

"Pervert."

"Manners, Alex." Oh, jeez, he had to stop this or he would lose it and come in his pants like a teenager. He resolutely placed his hand with the other behind his head and studied the disappointed look on Krycek's face with amusement. At least, he'd stopped looking frightened, which was a relief.

<Now, for some verbal seduction.>

"You mean, you've never thought about it, Alex?"

"Thought about what?"

"Sex with another man."

"Of course not. I told you, I'm not a fag."

<Trying to insult me, are you, Alex? Well, it won't work. I've been called worse, a lot worse...>

"Could've fooled me, the way you've been ogling me..."

"I haven't..."

"...and constantly trying to get as close as possible..."

"I don't."

"What about when we were at the FBI library in New York searching for Augustus Cole in that database? You were practically sitting in my lap." Krycek blushed and Mulder laughed. He'd never seen Krycek blush before. It made him even more desirable. If that was at all imaginable. "And you were always squirming, as if you couldn't keep still whenever you were near me. In fact, a lot like now..."

Krycek froze and glared at him. "I'm *not* gay."

"'The lady doth protest too much, methinks.' Or the lord, I suppose it would be in your case. If you only have sex with women, you miss *so* much."

"That's your opinion. It doesn't mean I have to share it."

"I didn't say that. I'm merely trying to point out what you're missing. Being with another man means you don't have to explain everything; not where you want to be touched, where you like to be kissed..."

Krycek was squirming again. The knuckles on his fists were white with strain and Mulder winced. That must be very painful. Krycek's nails were probably digging into his palms. Maybe he should stop.

<Don't be daft, Mulder. Charge for the guns.>

"And every time we meet you're *always* invading my personal space."

Krycek opened his mouth to say something, presumably his standard 'I don't', but instead his head slumped forward in silence and defeat.

"There's nothing wrong with it," Mulder said, making the tenor of his voice soft and convincing. He was almost beginning to feel sorry for his prey. Almost. "You can't change the way you are."

No response.

"Alex, come here. Please. I wouldn't be surprised if the temperature drop below zero tonight and we'll need to sleep next to each other just to stay warm."

Mulder propped himself up on one elbow and patted the mattress beside him. He could see the mixed emotions racing over Krycek's face, but he'd done all he could at the moment. Whether Krycek accepted his invitation or not, it had to be *his* decision.

Krycek unfisted his hands and slowly, cautiously slid over the floor between the beds. Mulder held his breath and continued holding it while Krycek stiffly laid down on his back next to him, crossing his arms protectively over his chest. Then he gazed up at Mulder.

Mulder had never in his life felt more like a cartoon character than he did right now. A tiny Mulder with white wings and a slightly crooked halo was buzzing around his right ear, zealously trying to convince him that if he was a decent human being he wouldn't do this. On his left shoulder sat another tiny Mulder, naked, with pointy horns, sensuously stroking a large erection - stroking, stroking, stroking. Was he really expected to be able to resist that? He couldn't even remember the last time he'd had sex. 

"I told you, I won't hurt you," he murmured, and bit his own lip to stop himself from laughing. Soon, if he didn't watch out, he'd be saying: 'I'll respect you in the morning.'

"And why should I trust you?" Krycek said dubiously. 

"Ah, Alex, one of the joys of being with you is that I don't have to feel as if I'm the most paranoid person in the whole world."

"The whole world isn't trying to kill you, Mulder." 

"No. But I'm not such a bad, *bad* boy as you are..." he whispered, starting to reduce the distance between their faces.

"You said... um... Mul-..."

Unlike earlier when their lips had met, this was a real kiss, not ending until they had to come up for air. By then, Krycek looked positively stunned. 

"You were saying?"

"Um... eh... nothing," Krycek mumbled.

Mulder looked down Krycek's body, at his arms that had fallen off his chest and his fingers that clutched ineffectively at the mattress. His T-shirt had slipped out of his jeans and Mulder longed to touch that tantalizing strip of naked skin. And that interesting bulge. He glanced back at Krycek's face and saw anticipation mixed with trepidation.

"Why don't we take off some clothes, Alex?"

"O-okay."

Mulder ran his hand down the front of Krycek's jacket, making sure the zipper grazed one of Krycek's nipples through his T-shirt. "I've had a soft spot for leather all my life," he said. "Is that why you wear it when you're with me? Because you know it makes my knees go weak?"

He licked Krycek's ear again, nuzzled his nose in Krycek's hair and whispered demandingly, "Off with it, Alex. And your boots, socks and T-shirt too."

He watched as Krycek fumbled with the shoelaces, cursing when his fingers wouldn't cooperate but finally getting the boots off and dropping them on the floor. Mulder's cock reacted to those two thuds, like one of Pavlov's dogs to the bell, and twitched in his pants. Then Krycek threw the rest of his clothes on the other bed and laid down.

"It's a pity I never had the chance to see *you* in only your speedoes, as you did me. You couldn't keep your eyes off me that time, could you?"

Krycek gulped for air and shook his head. Mulder contemplated what to do next. He had every intention of ending this encounter with him fucking Krycek quite thoroughly, but he suspected that if he wanted to get Krycek in the right mood for that he would have to go down on him first. Not that he wouldn't enjoy that. And it would make Krycek relax... well, sort of relax.

"Do you know what I like?" Krycek shook his head again. "I like this..." He tongued Krycek's left nipple and then sucked, reveling in the moan that it elicited. "...and I like this." He used his teeth this time and Krycek's back arched up off the bed. "I take it you like that too."

"Oh god."

He left a trail of hot kisses down Krycek's stomach. "Do you still want me to stop, Alex?"

"What? No..."

"No what, Alex?" He circled Krycek's navel with his tongue before dipping gently inside, feeling the tremors under his mouth and fingertips intensify.

"I... I don't want you to... to stop."

"Whatever you say. Now, what've we here?"

He positioned himself further down the bed and stroked Krycek's erection through the denim with one hand while he tried to restrain Krycek's thrashing hips with the other. Maybe he shouldn't be tormenting the poor boy. He unbuttoned Krycek's jeans, slid a hand inside and observed Krycek's face as he touched his cock for the first time. His eyes were screwed shut and he was gnawing at his lower lip so hard trying to keep his moans under control that his teeth were now colored with tiny blood drops. Mulder withdrew his hand and Krycek's eyes flew open. He started to protest but silenced when he realized that Mulder was only removing his pants and underwear.

"I've wanted to do this for so long..." Mulder said conversationally while he caressed the tender skin of Krycek's inner thighs. "Ever since I first saw you... and you know that, don't you?" He cupped Krycek's balls in his palm, gently squeezing them. "That's why you have been wearing those oh-so-very tight jeans, isn't it?" He kissed the tip of Krycek's cock, wiping off beads of pre-cum with his tongue. "To exhibit yourself to me..." He wrapped his fingers around the base of Krycek's erection and took the rest between his lips, sucking once, twice, three times. "Isn't it, Alex?"

"Ye-es."

He knew it wasn't true, that Krycek wasn't hearing a word he said, that he could probably make him say anything right now. He bent his head to work on Krycek again, using his hands and mouth and tongue to set up a rhythm to drive Krycek into a frenzy, making him come with a guttural scream, hips bucking frantically, cum splashing over his chest and stomach. 

"That wasn't so horrible, was it?" he said and moved so that he was lying beside Krycek. Krycek looked shell-shocked and utterly beautiful. "Open your eyes, Alex. Look at me."

Krycek's eyelids fluttered and opened. Mulder caressed his face with his fingers, rubbed the swollen, bitten lip, wiped away a few tears, cupped Krycek's right cheek in his hand. 

"Feel better?" he asked and smiled when Krycek nodded. "Want to do something that'll make you feel even better?"

At first, Krycek didn't seem to understand what he meant; then he was halfway off the bed before Mulder could yank him back and lie down on top of him, pinning him down so that he couldn't move. 

"I'm not letting you do that to me. No way, Mulder." 

He sounded hysterical but his body was responding to the feeling of Mulder's clothed figure pressing him down into the mattress. Mulder noticed this and began to rock his hips, very slightly to start with, as if he was furtively shifting around to find a comfortable position; then, gradually putting his whole weight on the lower part of his body so that after a while Krycek had to spread his legs. Krycek was relaxing under him, a shuddering sigh escaping his lips and Mulder knew he would get what he wanted.

"The very least you can do, Alex, is to help me out of my clothes. I'm dying here."

This was the second threshold that Krycek had to cross. He didn't hesitate that long this time, only closed his eyes for a few moments and murmured something indistinct, then he tugged Mulder's sweater and T-shirt over his head. Mulder gasped as his bare chest came in contact with Krycek's sweaty, hot, naked skin and when Krycek's questing hands started to roam over his body, *he* was the one to shut his eyes. He placed his arms on either side of Krycek's dark head, resting his forehead on the other man's shoulder and lifted his hips to give Krycek better access to fight with the buttons of his jeans.

<I'm going to die. No, I have died and gone to heaven, or maybe this is hell. Oh *god*...>

He toed off his shoes and socks and moaned when Krycek succeeded in peeling off his pants and boxers at last and his sorely mistreated cock was finally freed from its confines. Then he felt Krycek's hands on his heated skin again, one smoothly caressing his left side, one rubbing a thumb along his spine, and he nearly came. Which was probably why Krycek had done it in the first place. That realization made him sit up rather abruptly. 

"I'm going to fuck you, Alex," he said flatly and waited for the protests. But Krycek didn't utter a word. He was laying there on his back, trembling thighs on either side of Mulder's hips, his cock beginning to swell once more under Mulder's unremitting gaze, and he was regarding his seducer steadily, as if he had finally accepted the fact that this would happen no matter what and there was nothing he could do about it, so he might as well enjoy it. Mulder bent down again and kissed him tenderly, feasting on that luscious mouth, until they both felt light-headed and dizzy. Then he smiled, one of those glorious, happy, goofy smiles so rarely seen on his permanently worried face, and straightened up. 

"If it hurts too much, tell me and I'll stop. Okay?"

Krycek actually managed to smile this time and Mulder started to prepare him, using Krycek's own cum as lubricant. <Definitely a virgin.> He wiggled another finger into Krycek's anus and raked his nails against the prostate, grinning wickedly when Krycek's hips came flying upwards and he groaned, "Oh *god*... Do that again."

Mulder obliged and then he removed his fingers. He couldn't wait much longer. He'd never dreamt that Krycek would be this responsive. He took a deep breath to steady himself and put the tip of his cock against Krycek's tight hole.

"Try to relax, Alex," he said and pushed forward carefully. Krycek tensed and then exhaled, letting his body go limp. Agonizingly slow Mulder thrust all the way in until his cock was buried in Krycek's warm flesh, pausing several times to give Krycek opportunity to adjust to being filled.

Suddenly Krycek's hands were on his shoulders, pulling him down to lay awkwardly on top of the other man, crushing Krycek's cock and balls between their slick bodies. Krycek's eyes were deep pools of emotion, glistening with tears and desire and his kiss was ferocious, tongue sliding in and out of Mulder's mouth, teeth nibbling his lower lip.

Mulder's nerve endings felt like they were being consumed in flames, and his blood was rushing, pounding through his veins like a stampeding flock of wild animals. He could feel coherent thoughts wildly scattering in all directions, reducing his world to Krycek's mouth kissing him, Krycek's arms holding him down, Krycek's nails scraping his back, Krycek's hips thrusting in counter rhythm, Krycek's cock warm and alive in his hand and finally Krycek's internal muscles milking him when the other man came for the second time that night, bringing Mulder over the edge behind him. Then there was only fire, bright colors, and finally, sweet oblivion. 

When he returned to reality again, he immediately rolled off Krycek so as not to flatten him. They lay like that for what seemed like an eternity, on their sides facing each other, Krycek's cheek on Mulder's arm, Mulder hugging him, resting his chin on the soft hair on Krycek's head. They were silent while their beating hearts and ragged breathing slowed down to normal.

It'd seemed like such a great idea with lots of *sensible* reasons to do it. Now Mulder wasn't so sure anymore. This felt much, much too good. And it hadn't gone as he'd anticipated either. He hadn't expected Krycek to be *that* willing once his initial reluctance had been thrown out the window, nor had he been able to foresee his own furious passion. This wasn't just sex, this was... more. 

Out of the blue, he was suddenly gripped by an overwhelming urge to ask, "You all right, Alex?"

"This is better than all right." Krycek's moist breath was caressing Mulder's chest, sending shivers down his spine. "I could lie like this for ever and ever and ever..."

"Or at least until the guards come rushing in here tomorrow."

"Do you *always* have to spoil the mood, Mulder?" Krycek said and looked up so that Mulder could see his wicked smirk. "Is that why you insist on slapping me around whenever we meet? Because you really want to do something else?"

Krycek had been making circles on Mulder's hip with his right index finger, down his back, across his buttocks, up his hip again and again and again. Mulder grabbed that hand, bending it backwards in a vice that made Krycek wince.

"That is one explanation, but the main reason is still that you have brought more havoc into my life than anyone else with the exception of our cigarette smoking friend. You deserve every punch."

"I didn't ki-... hey... ooow..."

<Don't even mention my father, you son-of-a-bitch.>

He pressed down hard, saw Krycek's face contort in agony, tears welling up in his eyes, tears of *real* pain this time and then he released his grip. Krycek fell down on his back, cradling his hand. "Don't push me, Krycek."

Krycek's injured expression made him feel like a lousy jerk. He tried to convince himself that Krycek *did* deserve all the things he had coming to him. He *had* killed Mulder's father, and Duane Barry and that poor tram operator, he'd assisted Scully's abductors, he'd been there when Melissa died and god knew what other atrocious acts Krycek had committed in his short life. *He* was the really evil one, but, alas, Mulder was the one cursed with the guilty conscience. He kissed Krycek's cheeks, licking away salty tears, and pulled him close again. "Relax Alex, we need some sleep."

"You said you wouldn't hurt me. You said it *three* times."

Krycek sounded like a small kid who'd been robbed of his candy by a group of bullies bigger than him. Which was rather odd. Mulder almost laughed.

"I lied." 

"You lied? *You*, Fox William Mulder, *lied*?"

"What do you think I am? A bloody boy scout?"

"No," Krycek smirked again and pinched one of Mulder's nipples, "I think you wish you could be a bad boy just like me. You love walking on the edge, don't you Mulder, playing with fire. "

<Damn. This *was* a horrendously silly idea.>

He'd been so completely focused on Krycek's delectable body, to the extent that he'd momentarily forgotten about his sharp brain; forgotten that although Krycek sometimes preferred to let people perceive him as just another stupid goon, he most certainly wasn't.

"That's why you were always flaunting yourself to me."

"I have *never* flaunted myself to *anyone* in my *whole* life." That tone of righteous indignation was a miracle come true. He'd practiced it since he was ten and his family's neighbor had accused him of stealing apples. Unfortunately Krycek wasn't overly impressed.

"Oh, come on, Mulder. Those smoldering looks, the way you always found a reason to touch me, wearing your pants low on your hips, rolling up the sleeves of your shirt... Talk about exhibiting yourself."

Krycek had managed to maneuver himself so that he was laying on top of Mulder, moving his crotch against Mulder's with a smug grin on his face that clearly stated, 'Two can play this game.'

"There was a heat wave," Mulder objected weakly.

"I suppose you *could* call it that."

Mulder had just decided that it was time he regained the upper hand again when they were interrupted by an inhuman cry of fear and pain out in the corridor that made them both sit up and pale in horror. They listened to another scream, a thump, a fainter yelp and a thud. Both men held their breaths when they heard the awful sound of a (dead?) body being dragged past their door. 

All the playfulness and sexual excitement had disappeared and they were both shaking, but for entirely different reasons than an hour earlier. Krycek turned his back to Mulder and curled up on his side in a fetal position, effectively shutting Mulder out from whatever he was feeling. Mulder sat motionless for a minute or two, trying to ignore the screams that were still echoing in his mind; then he laid down behind Krycek, draping the blanket over them, hugging the slimmer frame of the other man firmly. Eventually they fell asleep.

Some time later Mulder woke with a gasp and he knew at once that something was wrong. This wasn't his apartment. Not even in the middle of winter was it this pitch black there, or this chilly. And there should be sounds: cars driving by, neighbors playing the stereo too loud, water running in the pipes. Here, there was nothing, just an impenetrable silence. Then he remembered where he was and who he was with. He couldn't recollect the dream though, only that it'd been about Samantha. 

<Samantha.>

What was he doing here, in flaming Siberia, when he should be at home searching for his sister? What was he doing here with this man who was his enemy, who had killed his father, who... who was now enveloping him in his arms, stroking his back, making soothing noises as Mulder sobbed and cried and ultimately stilled, feeling embarrassed and devastated that he'd allowed Krycek to see him this weak and vulnerable.

"Everything is going to be okay," Krycek whispered.

"Yeah. Right."

"They won't kill us."

"And how do you know that?"

"Trust me."

"Trust *you*?" he snorted. "Oh, great..."

"You don't have much of a choice, do you? There's no one else here that you can trust."

"I hate you."

He said it with feeling and it wasn't until Krycek laughed that he realized the feeling was all wrong. It hadn't sounded as if he really hated him, more like the tone you used when someone was aggravating and annoying in the extreme but you were going to forgive them all the same, the tone you used when you meant the exact opposite of 'I hate you'. He groaned. What was he doing, showing Krycek lots of new ways to make his life miserable? *More* miserable.

<Okay, now for a thousand dollars: What is it with Alex Krycek that makes Fox Mulder behave like a stupid moron every time they meet? First prize is a trip to beautiful, sunny Siberia, where the natives are friendly and the accommodation is truly luxurious and you'll experience that perfect mix of adventure and romance that only-...>

<Mulder, you're rambling.>

<And?>

<Oh, never mind.>

Not that it mattered one bit. They'd be dead soon anyway. He sniffled, threw a leg over Krycek's hip and snuggled closer, content to just lay there in Krycek's strong arms, as he gradually drifted off into a troubled sleep.

*** The End. ***

In case you're wondering where I got the title from, it's from Oscar Wilde, a few verses from one of his longer poems called "Flower of Love":

     "And at springtide, when the apple-blossoms brush  
             the burnished bosom of the dove,  
     Two young lovers lying in an orchard would have  
              read the story of our love.

     Would have read the legend of my passion, known   
              the bitter secret of my heart,  
     Kissed as we have kissed, but never parted as we   
              two are fated now to part."

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End file.
